


Whiskey

by misha_anon



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alcohol, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom Misha, M/M, Masturbation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Top Jensen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-04
Updated: 2013-07-04
Packaged: 2017-12-17 16:30:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/869621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misha_anon/pseuds/misha_anon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A long day, a toast, a near-miss with truth or dare, and sex.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Whiskey

**Author's Note:**

> This was going to have plot, then it didn't.

Shooting wrapped early and Misha took Jensen up on the invite to his empty house for a little 'let's not do a fucking thing for a while'.  The first hour, they just sat like zombies, barely talking while they waited for their brains to shift gears and slow down to the new pace.  Now they're starting to relax and unwind and Misha teases Jensen about the white noise country music playing in the background; Jensen teases Misha about wearing his pajamas in public.

"They're _yoga_ pants," Misha corrects with a little eye roll.

" _Girl_ pajamas, then, sorry."  Jensen looks away, tries to hide his smile as Misha gives an overdramatic sigh and lobs a pillow from his chair toward Jensen on the couch.  Even half turned away, he manages to catch the pillow, much to Misha's consternation.  He was going for a head shot.  He tosses another experimentally and Jensen catches that one, too, then throws them both back, rapid-fire, hitting Misha square in the chest.

"How do you _do_ that?" Misha asks, laughing and shaking his head when Jensen punches the air in celebration and winks at him.

"Maybe if your ass played _real_ sports instead of doing _yoga_ you wouldn't be such a terrible shot."

"Like you don't love the ass yoga created,"  Misha teases with an easy smile.  Jensen snorts, but a faint blush creeps across his face and he looks away again.  It's a small win, but a win nonetheless and Misha offers a proud "Mmhmm.  That's what I thought."

"Whiskey?"  Jensen changes the subject; clearing his throat and starting to push himself up off the couch as he finally looks back over to Misha.  "I think we deserve whiskey."

He doesn't wait for an answer before heading off toward the kitchen.  He _does_ pause at the stereo to change the music from country to something a little more bluesy, though, and Misha counts it as another win.  He watches Jensen until he's out of sight, enjoying the way his jean-clad ass sways to the beat and his bowed legs make the simplest walk a swagger.  When he hears the clinking of glassware in the kitchen, he abandons the chair for the couch.  Jensen reappears a moment later with a half full bottle of Jack Daniels, two shot glasses, and a big grin and Misha can't help but think there's going to be a whole lot more winning before the night is through.

"What should we drink to?"  Jensen takes his seat beside Misha and busies himself with pouring out two shots before leaving the uncapped bottle on the coffee table.  His fingers brush Misha's when he hands over one of the glasses and there's a little spark that makes Misha's belly do a fluttery flip.

"How about..  to finally being done with that fucking _scene_.."

"May I never see that much mud again as long as I live," Jensen adds, raising his shot glass toward Misha.  They share a rueful laugh and touch the rims of their glasses with a soft ' _clink_ ' before downing their shots.  The whiskey is ice cold, straight from the freezer, but it burns all the way down Misha's throat and into his stomach.  He takes a moment to enjoy the heat and let it spread through him, uncurling the last of the knots left over from two days of hard work.  Jensen takes the glass from his hand with another brush of fingers and refills it without asking, then hands it back.  

"Dude, you know last time we started with a shot of whiskey, I ended up passed out on this very couch," Misha warns, but Jensen just grins and raises his own full glass again and downs it.  So be it.  Misha swallows his shot down and this time the burn's not so bad, more pleasant and warm and fuzzy like his favorite sweater.  A third shot is poured and drunk and they both put their glasses down and lean back.  That's when Misha gets the _best_ idea.

"We should play truth or dare.  It's been a long time."

"Because _that_ always ends well."  Jensen laughs and raises an eyebrow at Misha and the spark the alcohol kindled in his belly flares into a bonfire under that glass-shard-green gaze.

"It always ends with someone getting fucked.  What ending could possibly be better?"

Jensen seems to consider this carefully, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth as he leans forward to pour two more shots of Jack.  The previous three are buzzing through Misha's veins, stoking the bonfire and making his blood run a little hotter.  He sits up and takes the glass from Jensen, hands a little unsteady with the beginnings of tipsiness or horniness, he'd be hard pressed to say which.  A slow smile spreads across Jensen's face as his touch lingers longer than is strictly necessary.

"Fair enough.  I dare you to let me fuck you."  It's a good thing Jensen's still helping Misha hold the glass because he nearly drops it between the words and the Texas drawl that's threaded through Jensen's whiskey roughed voice.  If he wasn't horny before, he certainly is now, and his body accommodates the quick shift in mood by diverting blood from all nonessential hobbies like thinking and speaking, straight to his dick.

He swallows and pulls the glass away from Jensen to shoot the amber liquid.  It's another burn, hot and to his toes and the tips of his hair and the pleasant buzz of tipsiness hums in his chest as he licks his lips and then offers Jensen a grin.

"That's what I like about you Texans, Jen.  You don't fuck around."  Jensen has already finished his glass and put it back on the table and now he's peeling out of his t-shirt to bare his muscular, freckled chest.  It's not like Misha was ever going to say no; but his hand shakes as he returns his glass to the coffee table and he nearly trips over himself to answer, "Fine.  I accept your dare."

Jensen's chuckle seems to echo through Misha's head as he tosses his shirt onto the floor and leans toward the opposite end of the couch, sliding open the end table's drawer and rummaging around.  He comes up with a bottle of lube and waves it in the air triumphantly.  Misha's watches, disbelieving, then laughs.

"Who the hell keeps lube in their living room?"

"When the hell have we ever made it to the bedroom _before_ we screwed?"  Jensen's point is valid and Misha is happy to concede.  He's grabbing for the hem of his t-shirt to pull it off when Jensen stops him and drags him fully clothed into his lap.  He ends up straddling Jensen's hips, already achingly hard when Jensen drawls against his throat, "Nah.  I like unwrapping my own presents."

Whimpering may be unseemly, but propriety is the furthest thing from Misha's mind.  His head is buzzing with alcohol and lust and he can feel the hardness of Jensen's cock through their clothes and the slow drag of Jensen's lips and teeth over his pulse point draws one whimper after another from him.  Misha tips his head back, lets Jensen kiss and suck and nibble as his hands find Jensen's shoulders then slide up his neck, fingertips dancing against the edge of Jensen's short hair.

Jensen growls and slides his hands under Misha's pants and underwear, strong fingers gripping his ass and forcing his hips to roll and grind.  Misha follows the lead, strokes a thumb along the line of Jensen's stubbled chin as he rubs harder and enjoys the way Jensen pulls his asscheeks apart and squeezes, kneading the thick muscles before he pushes them back together.  He nips sharply just above the collar of Misha's shirt and Misha can't stop the full throated moan of pleasure, intensified by the burn of Jack Daniels in his system and the way Jensen sucks over the bite to soothe the sting.

Misha's breath is shallow as he leans his head forward, rubs his cheek hard against Jensen's to feel the burn of two-day stubble.  Jensen gasps a soft "oh" when Misha's teeth close on his earlobe, a gentle drag that belies the urgency of their hips.  A tingle moves down Misha's inner thighs as they close tighter to Jensen's hips and he starts humping shamelessly, dragging his dick and drawn up balls against the roughness of his underwear and pushing himself toward the edge.

Jensen puts a stop to it, fingers digging bruising tight into Misha's ass and stilling his hips.  His breath is raspy as he turns his head to catch Misha's lips.  There's nothing gentle about the kiss.  It's wet and filthy, tonguefucking and bitten lips and pauses to take a half breath before anyone passes out from lack of oxygen.  Misha lets his hands wander until they're pressed between their bodies; he finds Jensen's nipples and teases with a thumb pad, dragging rough and circling as they harden.  

Jensen arches forward and moans and kisses him that much harder, pulling Misha's asscheeks almost painfully wide and kneading roughly.  Misha has to pull away from the kiss to gasp for air, moaning against the side of Jensen's neck as stubble scrapes his cheekbone.  He's almost certain he's going to die before he gets a chance to come when Jensen finally pulls his hands out with a drag of nails and grabs the hem of his shirt.

He drags the shirt quickly over Misha's head and lets him get right back to the nipple teasing, pinching and rubbing and rolling them between his fingertips.  Jensen's arms wrap around Misha's middle as his lips descend on one of Misha's nipples.  It's a swirl of tongue and then bite and suck and bite again that makes Misha shudder and cry out.  Misha's dick is throbbing, pounding with every beat of his heart, and he wants desperately to find friction and relief from the almost pain that's tightening his stomach until it quivers.

He draws a ragged breath when Jensen lets up for a second, locked in the circle of arms so that he can barely move.  It's exquisite torture when Jensen's teeth close harder and harder over his nipple, tongue tip pressing in crazy fast circles then darting away and all Misha can do is palm Jensen's sweaty shoulders and throw his head back to moan and pant and moan again.  The pain of the blood rushing back into his nipple shoots straight to his dick, slicking his underwear with more and more precome as those wicked lips move to his other nipple.

"Fuck..  fuck..  Jensen, _please_.."

"Please what?"  It's a raspy whisper, a half a second derailment of the sucking and biting of Misha's nipple.  He can't think clearly, can't seem to catch his breath, and his mouth is cotton dry with need and the bitter aftertaste of whiskey.  It's a relief when Jensen's arms loosen and his hands slide back down to settle on Misha's hips, but it's short-lived when he releases Misha's nipple and starts to push him off his lap.

Misha finds his feet; unsteady and holding on to Jensen's shoulder for support as thumbs hook in the waistband of his pants and briefs and start to drag them down over his ass and thighs. He closes his eyes and shivers when he feels the first rush of cool air across his bared cock, relieved.  Jensen kisses just inside Misha's hipbone, stubbled jaw rubbing against the side of his shaft, pulling a soft moan from them both.  It's almost overwhelming and Misha holds on tighter to Jensen's shoulder to keep from falling over with the renewed rush of whiskey and want.

He steps out of the last of his clothes, glad that Jensen shares his 'no shoes in the house' policy for the umpteenth time, then stands, naked and and stroking his cock languidly.  Misha holds Jensen's eyes, pupil black and half-lidded while Jensen relieves himself of his own jeans and underwear.  When he leans back again, his hands are on Misha's hips, pulling him back down to straddle his lap again.  Their cocks slot together, silky skin rubbing against silky skin as Misha dips his head for another heated kiss.

Jensen's hands disappear from Misha's hips as he starts to grind again, enjoying the little moans and growls he gets when his cock slides on Jensen's stomach.  He sucks at the tip of Jensen's tongue then bites his lip, quivering with anticipation when he hears the click of the lube's lid.  He reaches up to cup Jensen's face, palms on either side to hold hard and press the wet, slack kiss deeper.  Misha tenses when Jensen's hands find his ass again, slick fingers sliding between his cheeks while the other hand grips and squeezes.

The push of Jensen's fingertip against Misha's hole is steady and sure, a slick press and release only to press again until Misha is squirming and whimpering in his lap.  He breaks away from Jensen's lips, humping frantically as his cock blurts precome.  

"C'mon..  quit playing," he murmurs against Jensen's cheek, grinding down until Jensen's finger finally slips past tight muscles and into his ass.  Misha moans as Jensen's free hand moves to his hip, fingers curling tight to hold him in place as the finger in his ass slides in deeper.  His breath comes in harsh little gasps as Jensen's finger twists and presses against the muscles, loosening them.  The pleasant buzz of tipsy in Misha's head is clearing to a dull hum and he forces himself to relax as Jensen pulls his finger out and presses it back in with a second.

"Jen.. that's.."

There's a lot he wants to say, cheeky or witty or just plain coherent, but all he can do is growl and moan and fuck himself on Jensen's fingers with a roll of his hips.  His balls ache as he grinds down, legs splayed obscenely wide around Jensen's hips, then knees closing in tight when Jensen finds his prostate and strokes it with fingertips.  Misha is a mess and he knows it, panting pleas against Jensen's neck, begging to be fucked.  Jensen chuckles and turns his head, sucks at Misha's sweaty neck and keeps fingerfucking him until he can't breathe at all, reduced to a shivering, humping, frantic bundle of nerves impaled on Jensen's twisting fingers.

"I'm gonna fuck you so hard you're not gonna be able to walk straight," Jensen murmurs as he slowly drags his fingers out of Misha's ass, catching every nerve as he goes.  He's panting and squirming under Misha, cursing under his breath and fumbling for the lube.  Misha shifts backward, gives him room, loose fist wrapping around his own cock and stroking again in the absence of Jensen's touch.

"Thank god," he growls with a breathy laugh, "I thought you were just gonna tease me all night."

He's rewarded with a predatory smile and an iron grip on his hip again, pulling him forward and up.  The press of Jensen's cockhead against his loosened ass sends another delicious shiver down Misha's spine, curls the heat that's tingling on the back of his neck.  He leans in, bites at Jensen's lips, then his chin and down the curve of his jaw.  He moans long and low and deep in his chest as Jensen starts to push into his ass, muscles stretching and burning at the intrusion.

" _Christ_ , get on with it.."  He's flustered and frustrated, cock throbbing again with each heartbeat until he can't take this slow press anymore and he shoves his ass down, burying Jensen balls deep with a satisfied grunt.  Jensen's hips jerk up, pushing deeper and they both moan and go for a kiss at the same time.  It's a frenzy of lips and teeth and dragged out growls and whimpers and then Jensen's hands are on Misha's ass, grabbing and pulling his cheeks apart again with slippery imprecision.

He lifts Misha up and lets him drop back down as their tongues slide and tangle and their mouths widen obscenely on hitched breaths and groans of pleasure.  The head of Misha's cock drags up and down Jensen's stomach with each movement as Jensen pulls him up and then fucks up into him and there's nothing steady about the rhythm they set; there's nothing but Jensen's cock driving into Misha's ass and the painful squeeze of his ass and the curl of Jensen's fingers into the sensitive crease where ass meets thigh; then Jensen grappling at his hips and jerking him down to grind.

Jensen bites Misha's jaw, lets his lips slide down the side of his neck where he sucks and bites and sucks again.  Misha is moaning and rolling his hips, pushing Jensen as deep as is humanly possible as his thighs start to tingle and his knees draw in tighter, his ass clamping down around Jensen's cock until Jensen cries out, low and dangerous.  Misha bites his shoulder and Jensen returns the favor and then there's a frenzy of movement when Jensen's grip tightens and he raises Misha up and slams him back down again, thrusting up hard and erratic to meet him.

"Fuckfuck..  oh, God..  God, I'm gonna.."  Jensen's voice is a whimpered moan, breathless and he's searching for Misha's lips again.  Misha's happy to oblige, kissing him hard, tonguefucking wet and filthy as skin slaps on skin and he feels Jensen's cock go rigid.  Jensen's hips stutter as he drives himself up once, then once more, and Misha rolls his hips again to push Jensen deep as his cock jerks.  Jensen is reduced to panted whimpers and moans and clawing at Misha's shoulder blades, body shaking with orgasm.

Misha's not in much better shape, dropping his head to lick and bite at Jensen's sweaty shoulder as he fists his cock again between their bodies, jerking loose and quick as his ass squeezes down around Jensen's softening cock.  Jensen grabs Misha's shoulders and pulls his body back enough to get at his nipple.  He sucks hard, swirling his tongue as the frenzied pace of Misha's hand on his own cock ratchets up and he arches back, moaning and feeling orgasm tighten his body and slam through him like a train.

" _Shit_..  oh..  ah, ah.."  

It's as eloquent as he can be as Jensen's little growls vibrate around his nipple and his cock pulses thick, hot come out over his fingers and Jensen's stomach.  Misha's breath catches, and he moans nonsense as the pressure in his balls finally releases, tingling up to his chest and down to his knees, toes curling as he thrusts against his hand and jerks himself through to satiation.

Jensen releases his nipple, presses a soft kiss to the sweaty skin and then tilts his head up for a kiss.  Misha's stomach is still twitching, muscles quivering as he reluctantly drags his fingers away from his cock and loses himself in the kiss.  It's sweet and soft and harsh breaths and licks and moans.  Jensen pulls away, stroking up and down Misha's back with gentle fingers and pulling him closer.  Misha presses his forehead to Jensen's and groans, trembling as Jensen's cock finally slips out of his ass, releasing a flood of come with it.

Misha's head hums with the leftover effects of whiskey when they rest together, breathing hard and rubbing rough jaws against one another, both smiling and offering up little growls and mewls of pleasure from the contact.  This is the language they use in this moment, the only one they need as they both drift slowly back down to earth with gentle caresses and shared breaths.


End file.
